


Move (Before They Raise the Parking Rate)

by EachPeachPearPlum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cop Steve, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Roleplay, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum
Summary: “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Tony mutters to himself as the police car in his rearview mirror turns on its lights. He glances down at the speedometer, which shows the same two miles an hour above the speed limit he first set the cruise control at. So, fine, he's technically speeding, but not enough to get pulled over, and driving at the exact limit is the kind of suspicious behaviour that basically indicates criminal intent anyway.No, Tony should not be getting pulled over right now. The uniformed monkey flashing his lights should be chasing down actual bad guys, and leaving Tony the hell alone.It's date night, for fuck’s sake. Tony doesnothave time for this shit.Otherwise known as: Tony talks his way out of a speeding fine. Or, well, maybe talking isn't the right word...
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 169
Collections: Peach’s TSB 2020 works, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Move (Before They Raise the Parking Rate)

**Author's Note:**

> Title courtesy of Free's _All Right Now_. Much needed encouragement came from [nashapixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nashapixie/pseuds/nashapixie) and [Fighting_for_Creativity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fighting_for_Creativity/pseuds/Fighting_for_Creativity), for which I am so freaking grateful, you guys really have no idea. Betaed by starksnack, though any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
> 
> For my adopted 'walk the line' TSB prompt:
> 
> Title: Move (Before They Change the Parking Rate)  
> Collaborator Name: eachpeachpearplum  
> Card Number: 3027  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314960  
> Square Filled: Adopted - Walk the Line  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Steve/Tony  
> Rating: Explicit  
> Major Tags: Cop Steve, roleplay, uniform kink  
> Summary: Tony talks his way out of a speeding fine. Or, well, maybe talking isn't the right word...  
> Word Count: 2456

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Tony mutters to himself as the police car in his rearview mirror turns on its lights. He glances down at the speedometer, which shows the same two miles an hour above the speed limit he first set the cruise control at. So, fine, he's technically speeding, but not enough to get pulled over, and driving at the exact limit is the kind of suspicious behaviour that basically indicates criminal intent anyway.

No, Tony should not be getting pulled over right now. The uniformed monkey flashing his lights should be chasing down actual bad guys, and leaving Tony the hell alone.

It's date night, for fuck’s sake. Tony does _not_ have time for this shit.

Still, he pulls onto the gravel of the shoulder, hits the button to open his window, and watches the cop approach in his rearview mirror. The sun is low in the sky, behind the officer, so Tony can't see much more than a broad-shouldered silhouette, not enough for him to get more than a vague impression. He can't tell if the guy is all buttoned up and uptight, or if he seems relaxed and easy-going enough that a smile and an autograph from the famous Tony Stark will be enough to get him out of a ticket and this colossal waste of time.

Without having anything to go on, all Tony can do is paste an innocent expression on his face and hope for the best.

“Is there a problem, officer?” he asks, once the man gets close enough to hear him, and then blinks, surprised into silence by the man now frowning down at him. He’s tall, blond, absolutely gorgeous, and built like a brick shithouse. He’s also very familiar, and, incidentally, fills out his uniform so nicely that Tony’s fingers twitch with the desire to touch him.

“Mr Stark,” he says, interrupting Tony’s figurative drooling. “Do you know how fast you were driving?”

“Seventy,” Tony says firmly, and 97.2% honestly, because he’s been asked that question enough times that instinct wins out against surprise. “What the hell, St-”

“ _Officer_ ,” is the response, very definitely a correction, which is when it clicks with Tony exactly what’s going on.

“Sorry, _officer_ ,” he answers, emphasising it the same way the cop did. It earns him a brief smile, before his expression turns stern and disapproving again.

“I’m going to have to ask you to exit the vehicle, Mr Stark,” Brick Shithouse – no, wait, that’s an awful nickname, Tony definitely isn’t going to call him that, even just in his head – says.

“Sir, yes, Sir,” Tony snarks, a mix of anxiety and anticipation fluttering low in his stomach, making him stumble on his way out of the car.

He waits, uncomfortably on edge, for Blondie – ugh, no, way too ‘80s – to ask if he’s been drinking, because that’s what they always do in this situation, particularly when someone is as unsteady as Tony just was. And maybe in his wild, underage-drinking days, Tony might have gotten behind the wheel after having a few, but he was young and stupid and he hasn’t once driven under the influence since… Well, it’s been a very long time, and he’s damn well never going to do it ever again.

Still, he knows the routine, knows that he’ll have to prove he can walk in a straight line or recite the alphabet backwards or touch his nose with one index finger and then the other, and he doesn’t want to. He has a well-deserved reputation for partying too hard, drinking too much and sleeping with anyone who showed an interest, but the thought of _anyone_ accusing him of driving drunk makes him feel anxious and queasy and _awful_.

Tall-Blond-and-Gorgeous – bit long, but Tony can work with it – gives him another stern look, this time with an assessing edge to it, but, mercifully, he doesn’t order Tony to prove his sobriety.

“I’m afraid you weren’t doing seventy, Mr Stark,” he says instead, the very epitome of _not-angry-just-disappointed_ , and it sends a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Still, it won’t do to let on how much of an impact that voice has on him, so Tony does his best to sound calm and unaffected as he asks, “I wasn’t?”

“You were not,” T-B-and-G says. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket.”

“Oh,” Tony murmurs, aware that he’s stalling for time, at least a little bit, but it’s only because he wasn’t entirely prepared for this to move so quickly. But it is, and he knows his next line. “I wasn’t doing that much more than seventy, was I, officer? Can’t you let it slide?”

T-B-and-G frowns down at him. “If we let it slide for you, we’d have to do the same for everyone else, too, and then where would we be?”

 _God knows_ , Tony thinks, _but we'd definitely have gotten there quicker_. “I understand that, officer,” he says. “But just this once? Surely there must be something I can do to change your mind…” And, just in case T-B-G missed the implication, Tony rests his right hand on his left forearm and throws him the smile an ex once told him could charm a nun out of her wimple.

“I really don’t think that’s appropriate, Mr Stark,” TBG answers, though he sounds equal parts awkward and flattered by the offer, and he doesn’t do anything at all to dislodge Tony’s hand.

“Perhaps not,” Tony agrees, fingertips trailing up TBG’s arm to his shoulder, his touch deliberately light, teasing. “But I can promise you it’ll be a lot more enjoyable than writing some stupid ticket.”

He’s got his hand on TBG’s chest now, creeping ever closer to the buttons straining just a little too hard over his very nice pectorals. TBG still isn’t objecting, verbally or otherwise, and it’s easy, so easy, to undo that first button, slide his hand inside his shirt and against his skin.

His fingers are cold enough that TBG shivers, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he steps closer, letting out an almost silent gasp as Tony’s fingertips drag over his nipple.

“I suppose we can work something out,” he says, his voice low, rough, gaze lingering on Tony’s arms, his chest, his hands and thighs and, on the way back up again, his mouth.

“Is that what you want?” Tony breathes, rising up on his toes so he can be sure he’s close enough for TBG to hear him, and if that has the added bonus of making him shiver again, Tony definitely isn’t going to complain. “My mouth?”

He sees TBG’s throat move as he swallows, a pink flush travelling down his neck, and Tony has to suppress a pleased smile.

“Where’d you want it, though?” he continues, so close now that his lips graze TBG’s skin. “Here?” He pauses a moment, then drags his fingertips over TBG’s nipple, pinching just hard enough to make him inhale sharply. “There, maybe? Or…?”

His other hand rests momentarily on TBG’s belt buckle, then drifts lower, brushing teasingly at the front of his pants. “Yes,” Tony murmurs, as TBG gasps again, pressing into his touch. “I thought that might be what you wanted.”

“Tony,” TBG manages, though the name comes out as a distorted, slightly desperate sounding moan.

Tony smiles, presses something approximating a kiss to the soft skin of TBG’s throat, right over his racing pulse, and extracts his hand from inside TBG’s shirt.

“You’re in luck,” he says, pitching his voice low and sultry, his fingers making easy work of TBG’s belt buckle. “It’s what I want, too.”

The button on his pants goes just as easily, as does the zipper, and then Tony goes to his knees, pulling TBG’s pants and underwear halfway down his thighs in a single swift motion.

Tony’s never been one to jump straight to the main event, though, so after a moment of admiring TBG’s erection from close up he proceeds to ignore it completely, instead pressing kisses low on his stomach, his hips, working at the soft skin at the top of his thigh until he squirms. His hands come down, one landing briefly on Tony’s shoulder and the other on the back of his head before twitching uselessly in the air.

“You can touch,” Tony tells him, pulling back to admire his handiwork, pale skin reddened by prolonged exposure to his facial hair, a darker mark in the middle. “I promise I won’t break.”

TBG lowers his hands again, fingers threading through Tony’s hair, soft and light, far too gentle for Tony blowing his way out of a speeding ticket, but Tony’s determined that won’t last long once he gets started for real.

He rests his hands on TBG’s hips, holding him still rather than pinning him in place, if only because there’s not actually anything to pin him to. Tony’s fingers settle on his ass, thumbs pressing against his hip bones, and then he goes for it. He teases at first, just a scattering of kisses up and down TBG’s length, interspersed with little kitten licks at the head, waiting until the _Tony_ s and _god_ s and _please_ s are almost entirely incomprehensible before wrapping his lips around him and sinking down.

The noise TBG makes the first time Tony swallows might have started out as his name again, but by the time it leaves his mouth it’s flatteringly garbled, little more than nonsense. Tony rewards him with a soft hum, and the hand in his hair tightens, pulling just slightly.

“Oh,” TBG gasps, breathless. “God, Tony, I- you’re- fuck, I lo- I-” He cuts himself off, every attempt at a sentence falling short, and Tony looks up in time to see his teeth sink into his bottom lip, biting down hard enough that it has to hurt.

Tony relaxes his hold on TBG’s hips, and then, when he doesn’t take the hint, shifts his hands far enough round that he can guide him into motion.

“Tony,” TBG murmurs. “Tony, are you _sure_?”

His answer comes out as more of a guttural moan than anything coherent, but he’s also certain TBG would prefer that to him attempting to speak with his mouth as full as it is right now. Still, there’s a strong possibility his _yes_ got lost in translation, so Tony continues pushing and pulling at him until he picks up the rhythm for himself, thrusting into Tony’s open and very willing mouth.

His hands cradle Tony’s head, still touching him like he’s fragile, breakable, something to be treated with the utmost care, and it’s not quite what he asked for but that really doesn’t seem important right now. Not when this is so damn good, the combination of that tender touch and the sharpness of the gravel under his knees, the warm hands on him and the hot weight on his tongue, the cool evening breeze ruffling the hair on the back of his neck and the fact that anyone could drive down this road and see them.

Yeah, Tony is really enjoying this, and so, based on his increased pace and uneven breathing, is TBG. He’s given up on trying to suppress the mangled litany of praise, his mouth running almost as fast as Tony’s does sometimes, and Tony basks in it, letting it fill his ears to the exclusion of all else.

TBG tugs at Tony’s hair, as clear a warning as Tony could have hoped for, not that he’s going to do anything more than push himself to go further, take more, swallowing and swallowing and swallowing as TBG shakes his way through his orgasm.

“God, Tony,” he manages after a moment, his hands fluttering in the air, petting Tony’s hair and face. It’s gentle, lovely, and Tony leans into his touch as both their breathing slows, steadies, calms. “Are you okay?”

“More than, gorgeous,” Tony answers, feeling more than seeing the tremor that runs through TBG’s body at the hoarseness of his voice. “Don’t suppose you feel like giving me a hand, though?”

He’s one hundred percent certain that TBG is deliberately misunderstanding when he holds out his hand to help Tony to his feet, but since standing up also gets him within kissing distance, he’s not exactly going to refuse. Except when Tony moves in for the kill, TBG takes a step back, releasing Tony’s hand in order to tuck himself away again, refastening his pants.

“I’m sure you’ve got someone at home who can help you out,” he says lightly. “Why don’t you wait until then, hmm?”

Tony lets out a strangled groan, wanting so much to ask, or maybe argue, but TBG has already opened the door to Tony’s car and is helping him sit down.

“Okay?” he asks, once Tony’s settled, waiting until Tony repeats it before brushing a gentle kiss to his temple. “Good.”

“Good,” Tony echoes, staring at him in what is probably not a very attractive or intelligent seeming way.

“Drive safe, Mr Stark,” TBG instructs, and then, because it’s a touchstone for them for years, the only way they end their conversations, “I love you, Tony. See you at home.”

“Love you too,” Tony answers, closing the car door between them.

X

“How was it?” Steve asks later, when they’re standing over the basin in the bathroom brushing their teeth. It’s comfortable, domestic, and it takes Tony long enough to answer that Steve’s expression starts to fall. “I know I wasn’t- I mean, that you wanted something a bit more, well, kinky, but- I can do better, Tony.”

“Hey, stop that,” Tony says, now that he’s spat out his mouthful of toothpaste. His mouth still feels uncomfortably frothy, but that’s not remotely important when Steve seems to be in a downward spiral that Tony needs to snap him out of. “Steve, it was perfect.”

“But-”

“But nothing, Steve,” he says, shaking his head. “I loved it, okay?”

He pauses to swish his mouth out with water, then spits it out and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “And what do you mean, it wasn’t kinky? We had sex at the side of the road while you were impersonating a police officer, and then you forbade me from jerking off until you got home. I don’t know what definition of kink you’re working on, but I think you need a new dictionary, yeah?”

Steve blushes, which Tony takes to mean his mission is complete; he sticks his toothbrush back in the cup it lives in, pats Steve on his pyjama-clad ass, and heads back into their bedroom.

“I’m still waiting, by the way,” he calls over his shoulder, and hears Steve choke on his toothbrush.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [dreaminglypeach](https://dreaminglypeach.tumblr.com/), where I am happy to talk and be talked to.


End file.
